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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527519">redamancy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung'>jenhyung</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:07:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngho has a little crush.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>redamancy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired heavily by god <a href="https://twitter.com/n_ikuman">@n_ikuman</a>'s (jiani) hp!au johnjae doodle that you can find <a href="https://twitter.com/n_ikuman/status/1241533194425569287?s=20">here</a>! please show it some love ♡</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Fat Lady is screaming.</p><p>Every soul in the Gryffindor Common Room turns to look at just who–or what–has her enraged today, that high-pitched shriek of hers reverberating across brick walls and squashy armchairs. It’s replaced quickly by the sound of stomping footsteps rushing across the carpeted floors to jump over steps and chairs, only to skid to a stop by the largest coffee table set before the fireplace.</p><p>A bright voice breaks the snug silence, “It’s been confirmed!”</p><p>Another chimes in, “We heard someone mention it in the halls!”</p><p>Suh Youngho’s quill stops moving. The essay on his parchment stares right back at him, and it takes him a moment before he’s looking up at the two youngest members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team: third-year Seeker Lee Minhyung, and second-year Chaser Lee Jeno. They have matching frenzied expressions on their faces, their excitement almost tangible.</p><p>Youngho clears his throat, “Are you talking about–”</p><p>“They really <em>did </em>pick him,” Jeno interrupts, and without skipping a beat,</p><p>Minhyung nods, “Slytherin’s new Quidditch Captain–it’s Jung Jaehyun.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>–</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I used to think it was cute, really.”</p><p>Youngho butters his toast generously, “What was?”</p><p>“This crush thing you have,” Lee Taeyong waves his fork at Youngho, chewing on a bite of roast beef. He licks his lips, “You know, the staring, the winking, the flirting with that fifth-year of yours. I used to think it was cute and endearing, or something like that.”</p><p>“Did you?” Youngho raises a brow. He bites off a corner of his buttered toast, “And I suppose you’ve changed your mind?”</p><p>“I have.”</p><p>Youngho hums, “And?”</p><p>“And now,” Taeyong’s eyes flick towards the Slytherin table on the other end of the Great Hall, scanning down the row of juniper green. His gaze returns to Youngho’s after he spots the boy in question, “He just looks like he flat out hates you now.”</p><p>That is a sight Youngho’ll have to witness for himself. He looks over his shoulder to where Taeyong’d been not two seconds ago, immediately finding that striking contrast of dark-raven hair and pale cheeks. There Jung Jaehyun sits, very obviously keeping his head turned fully away from the Gryffindor table, ferociously stabbing at the baked chicken on his plate.</p><p>Youngho doesn’t budge until Jaehyun’s shoulders heave in a surrendering sigh. He must’ve felt Youngho’s unrelenting stare because he’s tipping his chin up in defiance, eyes locking with Youngho’s instantaneously. Youngho grins the moment he does, lifting a hand to wave at Jaehyun amiably, catching the attention of a few other Slytherins and a couple of Hufflepuffs along the way.</p><p>Jaehyun scowls. He glares at Youngho for a full two seconds, then returns his attention to his dinner.  </p><p>“He hates you,” Taeyong laughs. “He absolutely hates you, Youngho.”</p><p>Youngho doesn’t believe it a single bit. He stares at Jaehyun until he’s satisfied with the way the tips of Jaehyun’s ears turn bright pink, twisting back around to his buttered toast. Grinning, he takes another bite, “He doesn’t.”</p><p>“Are we looking at the same person right now?” Taeyong reaches for his glass of pumpkin juice, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it doesn’t look like it’s working out for you all that much.”</p><p>Youngho shakes his head, “You of little faith.”</p><p>Taeyong flicks a crouton at Youngho, who dodges it easily. They slip into discussion over the homework Professor Lee’s assigned and his insane requirement of filling three full rolls of parchment (for there really is only an infinite number of words a student can string together while explaining the properties of moonstone). Youngho finishes his toast just as Taeyong starts on the properties of moonstone subtypes, and a ruckus from across the hall has Youngho turning back around.</p><p>He perks up when he sees the fuss and the ruffle of emerald robes over at the Slytherin table. It’s Jaehyun’s friends, tugging at his robes as he excuses himself, tries to take his leave early. They whine and protest, but Jaehyun smiles apologetically, hands waving around vaguely like he were making up a bad excuse.</p><p>Jaehyun’s friends eventually release him and he bids them goodbye, strides long as he walks away.</p><p>Youngho rushes to stand, plates clanking together loudly as he struggles to get himself out of the benches. “I have to go,” he announces hurriedly, ignoring the startled look on Taeyong’s face, “I’ll see you later!”</p><p>“What?” Taeyong calls after him, “Later? Youngho, are you seriously–”</p><p>Youngho practically flies out of the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him. He scares a few Ravenclaws in his haste, but thankfully makes it out of the Great Hall without body-slamming into any unsuspecting first-years.</p><p>Out in the corridor, he catches a glimpse of Jaehyun’s dark hair and green robes just as he turns the first corner on the left. Breaking into a jog, Youngho hurries until he’s close enough to match Jaehyun’s step, close enough to have their shoulders brush.</p><p>Jaehyun shows no acknowledgment of his presence, spares him not even a peek.</p><p>Youngho, on the other hand, doesn’t bother hiding his interest. He draws close to inspect Jaehyun’s dark lashes, the curve of his plush lips, the unfastened top button of his shirt and the shy reveal of his delicate collarbones. It has heat prickling up the back of Youngho’s neck, a flare of warmth to his cheeks, and it takes everything in him to keep from combusting out of pure joy.</p><p>Jaehyun leads–or well, Youngho follows–them wordlessly up to the fifth floor, past moonlit alcoves and emptier corridors. Youngho recognizes the way once they step off the Grand Staircase, the stone walls lit with flaming torches, their shoes quiet against smooth floors.</p><p>Youngho opens his mouth, the password to the Prefects’ Bathroom on the tip of his tongue,</p><p>Jaehyun steps out in front of Youngho, moving faster than a Snitch. Youngho catches himself before he can topple them both over, stumbling a step back to place a mere wand’s length between them. Jaehyun has that scowl on his face again, brows furrowed together tightly, the corners of his lips pulled down. His eyes shine under the flicker of the torch’s flame, the ire unmistakable.</p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>Youngho regains his senses, stands tall to flaunt those inches he proudly has above Jaehyun. He smiles, brimming with joy when it makes Jaehyun grimace even harder, “Hi.”</p><p>“What,” Jaehyun is nothing but anger, “do you <em>want</em>?”</p><p><em>Many things</em>, Youngho thinks. He licks his lips, watches Jaehyun’s eyes follow the movement, “I wanted to have a chat. With you.”</p><p>“A chat!” Jaehyun scoffs, “Come off it, Suh.”</p><p>“You know,” Youngho beams, bouncing on his tiptoes, “We never get to talk, you and I. And I was wondering if that could change, given the circumstance.”</p><p>“There won’t be any circumstances in which we’ll have to,” Jaehyun’s tone is clipped. He jabs at Youngho’s shoulder, “What is it that you really want?”</p><p>Youngho laughs, serving to further irritate Jaehyun, “I just wanted to congratulate you, Jung.” He reaches for Jaehyun’s hand, but it’s snatched away before he can curl his own around it, “For making Quidditch Captain. Though it isn’t like I didn’t think you wouldn’t be picked, of course.”</p><p>Jaehyun narrows his eyes, “You know.”</p><p>“I keep it a habit to know when there’s talk on Quidditch teams.” Youngho hums, “Or when there’s talk on you.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s face twists, “Stop it.”</p><p>Youngho tilts his head, “Stop what?”</p><p>“<em>This</em>.” Jaehyun snarls, “This–whatever you’re trying to do here. Stop it.”</p><p>It’s not a good feeling–the drop in Youngho’s chest. There’s something aside from anger he sees cross Jaehyun’s face, only there for a sliver of a second. Jaehyun doesn’t look away, doesn’t blink, like he were dead set on having Youngho’s hair light aflame.</p><p>After almost a month’s worth of constant bickering, Youngho’s fully acquainted with Jaehyun’s buttons–he knows just which ones to press, he knows which ones he can’t, and he knows just when he’s close to breaking Jaehyun’s inner <em>Daily Youngho Allowance</em> meter. There’d been only twice that Youngho’d played jump rope with that line, but he’d never once crossed it.</p><p>His aim, after all, is only to tease Jaehyun.</p><p>“I’m not trying to do anything, Jung.” Despite the empty corridor, Youngho speaks lowly, “I honestly wanted to congratulate you–you know, from one captain to another. Truly. Sincerely.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t flinch.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like I’m completely incapable of being nice to you,” Youngho snorts. He would give Jaehyun anything he asks for, “Is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely happy for you?”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t buy it, “It is.” But relents reluctantly, “Thanks.”</p><p><em>It’s not a declaration of love but I’ll take it. </em>Youngho feels a little lighter, lips already itching to smile, “So, I’ll look forward to seeing you out on the Quidditch Pitch this weekend then?”</p><p>“There isn’t a game this weekend,” Jaehyun informs him.</p><p>“I know,” Youngho winks, “I’m just looking forward to seeing you.”</p><p>Jaehyun glowers, “Is that all now?”</p><p>“Yes, I should think so.”</p><p>Jaehyun sighs in relief, dismisses Youngho with a wave. He turns to murmur the password to the Prefects’ Bathroom (it’s <em>Chamomile </em>this month), but stops once more when he realizes that Youngho isn’t leaving, “What are you still doing here?”</p><p>Youngho <em>lives </em>to tease Jaehyun, he can’t help it really, it comes so naturally. He smiles, “I wanted to make sure you made it in there safe, Jung.”</p><p>Jaehyun gapes at him, baffled speechless for a moment.</p><p>“And,” Youngho tacks on. He clasps his hands together behind him, steeling himself and reminding Jaehyun earnestly, “I wanted you to know.”</p><p>Jaehyun waits for him to go on, exasperated when Youngho doesn’t, “<em>What </em>is it, Suh.”</p><p>“That I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.” Youngho raises his hands and takes a step back; the earlier ire in Jaehyun’s eyes has Youngho refusing to take any chances, “All you have to do is tell me, all you have to do is say the word–and I will.”</p><p>Jaehyun blinks back to life. There’s a faint buzz in Youngho’s ears as Jaehyun continues to stare at him, the annoyance returning. He turns away and steps into the Prefects’ Bathroom, refusing to meet Youngho’s eyes when he shuts the door with not another word.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>–</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I’m almost scared to ask where you’ve been, lover boy.”</p><p>Youngho strolls across the Hufflepuff Basement, waving at the handful of third-years that recognize him from the very many times he’s allowed himself past the stack of barrels and into the welcoming Common Room. He sinks into one of the overstuffed chairs, snuggled warm immediately.</p><p>Taeyong props an elbow over the spread of unrolled parchments, cheek in his hand, “Well?”</p><p>Youngho lolls his head to look at where his best friend’s seated cross-legged on a mustard throw, “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask?”</p><p>“I said I was scared to.” Taeyong clicks his tongue, “Not that I wasn’t going to.”</p><p>“I just–” Youngho shrugs, “Took a walk. No big deal.”</p><p>“Took a walk,” Taeyong scoffs. He waves his quill at Youngho, “You sure did–right after you chased Jung Jaehyun out of the Great Hall like you were hunting Snidgets.”</p><p>Youngho gasps, appalled, “I would never hunt a Snidget.”</p><p>“Of course,” Taeyong hums. “The only thing you’d hunt is that Slytherin of yours.”</p><p>“He’s <em>not </em>mine,” Youngho huffs.</p><p>“What is it with you and Jung Jaehyun?” Taeyong reaches over his notes to grab a gummy bear from the bowl of snacks the Kitchen had probably prepared for him, “Professor Kwon’s going to have your head the day you hurt one of his precious Slytherins–that Slytherin being the House’s beloved Captain really isn’t going to end well for you.”</p><p>Youngho looks to the ceiling, “I just think he’s cute.”</p><p>“Cute?”</p><p>“Isn’t he?” Unfortunately for Taeyong (and anyone else within hearing distance), Youngho can’t keep the dreaminess out of his voice, “He gets so unbearably cute when he’s angry at me, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Gross, Youngho, c’mon,” Taeyong groans. He kicks at Youngho’s ankle roughly, “Why can’t you just ask him out like a normal person?”</p><p>“He’s not going to just say <em>yes</em>,” Youngho snorts. He bumps his knee against Taeyong’s shoulder, “That would never work on him, not when he thinks we’re meant to be sworn enemies–he’d just punch me in the face or something.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t doubt that.” Taeyong sighs, “Sworn enemies, you say?”</p><p>“Even more so now that he’s Captain.” Youngho shifts in his seat, leaning over the plush armrest to take a peek at Taeyong’s essay, “I don’t even know why he hates me so much.”</p><p>Taeyong barks a laugh, “You don’t?”</p><p>“Why would I!” Youngho sulks, “He’s hated me even before the very first time I said hi to him on training grounds–I’d barely gotten a word in when he glowered at me and huffed off! Like I’d killed his pet cat!”</p><p>“It’s because you tease him and it irritates him, Youngho,” Taeyong settles. “It’s as simple as that.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>–</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But it’s not.</p><p>Youngho’s fairly sure Jaehyun’d already bore some kind of grudge against him the first time they’d ever locked eyes across the Quidditch Pitch. It’d been a match against Slytherin and it was Jaehyun’s first game as Beater; Youngho’d only known so because Taeyong spent breakfast that morning gushing over Slytherin’s new line-up–only because it was Kim Doyoung’s first game too–and Jung Jaehyun had been a name amongst others unfamiliar to Youngho.</p><p>That, however, was almost a year ago.</p><p>It’s only a <em>month</em> ago that Youngho began to go out of his way to find Jaehyun along the castle’s corridors, to find Jaehyun reading a book under a willow tree near the Great Lake, or to hunt down any other possible instance he could find Jaehyun in.</p><p>And there’s a reason for his sudden desire to, really.</p><p>It was an evening out on the Quidditch Pitch; Youngho had the team taking laps, running through a few of their newer plays for the upcoming season. He was doing rounds, watching Minhyung take off quick after the Snitch when something in his peripheral moved. Youngho’d slowed down on his broom–a trusty Silver Arrow–to survey the darkened stands.</p><p>It was unmistakable–dark hair and pale skin.</p><p>Jaehyun was watching him from the Gryffindor stands, his emerald robes striking against the red and gold. He startled under Youngho’s gaze, rushing to his feet to hurry down the stairs, disappearing into the dark and out of sight. It was undoubtedly the most graceless Youngho’d ever seen Jung Jaehyun, mortified at having been caught by him of all people, but it only made Youngho grin.</p><p>After, it became ordinary for Youngho to seek Jaehyun out, finding immense pleasure in situating the Slytherin fifth-year in embarrassing situations–hooking his arm around Jaehyun’s shoulder whenever he caught Jaehyun to wish him a good morning, asking Jaehyun about his day whenever they crossed paths in the corridors like they were best friends, sending flying kisses whenever he got to wish Jaehyun a good night.</p><p>The rosy cheeks and pink ears, the scowl and the scrunch of his nose, the heat in his voice and the fury in his eyes–Youngho couldn’t get enough of it. It was like teasing a kitten with one of those red-laser Muggle contraptions and Youngho is indubitably addicted.</p><p>He’s tried to leave Jaehyun alone, he honestly has–but it’s so hard to when the thought of Jaehyun is constantly on his mind. He can barely remember what it was like before Jaehyun, before his daydreams revolved solely around Jaehyun, before all he could look for in a crowd was Jaehyun, before his thoughts and heart was consumed by this boy that hated him so.</p><p>Jaehyun, Jaehyun, <em>Jaehyun</em>.</p><p>That was all Youngho knew and, for a while, that was alright.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>–</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Potions essay is due on Monday. Taeyong reminds Youngho of this on Sunday evening, knowing full well that Youngho’s weekend had been spent on Quidditch and nothing else. Youngho scarfs down dinner and gives up on begging Taeyong to help him with the wretched assignment (the very one Taeyong’s already done and dusted with), grabbing handfuls of cookies and an apple to take with him up to the library. He nods when Taeyong bids him good luck–he’s going to need it.</p><p>With everyone still at dinner, the corridors are quiet. Youngho takes the stairs two at a time to the third floor, already thinking up a brief outline he could possibly bullshit his way through. Madam Yoon is shelving books when he steps into the library, and she smiles warmly when he greets her a good evening.</p><p>The library is spotted with countless study tables, lined between rows and rows of books; the shelves are nearly five stories high, filled to the tops and to the ends. There are long tables to the ends of these towering shelves, pushed to face the large windows, some of them stained pretty with art from when the castle was first built.</p><p>Youngho picks an empty seat at the end of one of the longer tables, thankful that the library isn’t teeming with the chatter and racket first-years seemed to love bothering others with. The silence is appreciated, especially if Youngho’s got to bust through three rolls worth of parchment without completely losing his mind.</p><p>He pulls out a couple of quills and a bottle of blue ink, along with some parchment paper he had to scour his room for. Much unlike Taeyong who liked to enough stationeries to open up his own shop, Youngho didn’t like spending more than he needed on quills and parchments–he’d rather they be spent on other things, like a new broomstick or literally anything from Honeydukes.</p><p>As he uncaps the bottle of ink, the chair two seats away from him is pulled free. Youngho turns on reflex, and he can’t believe his luck.</p><p>Jung Jaehyun, of course.</p><p>
  <em>Of course. </em>
</p><p>Youngho’s hand tightens around the cap of the ink bottle, heart rate already through the roof. Jaehyun hasn’t noticed him yet, busy balancing the stack of books in his arms, trying not to dump them all unceremoniously out onto the table. His robes are slipping off a shoulder and Youngho swallows thickly at the thought of Jaehyun in <em>his </em>Gryffindor robes–Jaehyun didn’t have a narrow frame–he’s lean and slender and well-built–but he’s definitely smaller than Youngho is and oh my <em>god</em>.</p><p>Youngho inhales sharply. Jaehyun turns. Their eyes meet, and Jaehyun’s lips fall apart in surprise.</p><p>Youngho will never tire of it, “Hi.”</p><p>Instantly, Jaehyun is gathering the books back into his arms, already bent on finding another spot.</p><p>“You don’t have to move, you know?” Youngho tells Jaehyun, before he can turn on his heel and hightail it for a seat no doubt across the library. Jaehyun stops, resting the books against his hip, “You could sit here.”</p><p>“I’m good.” Jaehyun pushes the chair back in, “Thank you.”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon,” Youngho can’t help but grin. Jaehyun’s ears are already red, betraying the frown on his lips, “I promise I won’t bother you if you sit here–I can be quiet, I swear.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t seem to believe it, but he considers it anyway. He resigns with a quiet sigh, setting his books back down and settling into the seat not six feet from Youngho. Youngho keeps his word, turning back to his workspace, giddy and all too excited to simply be in Jaehyun’s presence this evening.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Five minutes.</p><p>That’s how long it takes for Youngho’s resolve to break.</p><p>He’s two lines into his essay when the itch to look at Jaehyun is unbearable. He caves, tilting his head in a manner most discreet, feigning to be deep in thought as he stares straight ahead at Jaehyun–he’s hunched over the edge of the desk, weight on his left arm holding the roll down firmly, quill moving fluidly across parchment paper. The top button to his shirt is unfastened again and his tie loose around his collar. His brows furrowed together tightly with his lower lip is caught between his teeth, bitten red.</p><p>And Youngho wonders–what would it be like to kiss Jung Jaehyun?</p><p>The scene paints itself before Youngho can even think to <em>want </em>to stop it. Jaehyun’s lips would be soft–they look soft–and he would be on his tiptoes to kiss Youngho, hands curled in the front of Youngho’s jersey. He would be pressed against Youngho’s chest, the rise of his chest pushing against Youngho’s, and Youngho wonders if Jaehyun would taste sweet? The brush of their noses, Youngho thinks about how his hands would run down Jaehyun’s sides, about how it would have Jaehyun gasping, about how it would have Jaehyun clinging to him tight, about how it would–</p><p>“Do you mind?”</p><p>Youngho blinks. He crosses his legs, “Sorry.”</p><p>Jaehyun is back to being angry again; that soft, pliant Jung Jaehyun of Youngho’s imaginative thoughts are now even further out of reach. Jaehyun doesn’t let him off, “You’re staring at me. Why?”</p><p><em>I just want to</em>, Youngho thinks dumbly. He clears his throat, buys himself some time, “Why?”</p><p>“Yes.” Jaehyun stares, suspicious, “Why?”</p><p>Youngho doesn’t like lying. He doesn’t like it a single bit, and he hasn’t willingly told a lie ever since he was five and his mother caught him guiltily eating a slice of chocolate cake before dinner. Jaehyun’s frown deepens at the silence, and Youngho fumbles to come up with something that doesn’t have him admitting of his loving daydreams over Jaehyun’s lips.</p><p>“I was just–thinking.”</p><p>If it weren’t for the rise and fall of Jaehyun’s chest, Youngho would’ve thought the boy to be frozen. Jaehyun isn’t impressed, “Thinking?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“About?”</p><p>Youngho raises his brows, “Why do you want to know so bad?”</p><p>“Because,” Jaehyun scowls, “you’re staring at <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“I was thinking about how nice you look today, Jung,” Youngho shrugs, feigning nonchalance to the very best of his abilities. His heart hammers against his ribs, “You look different when you’re not trying to bite my head off.”</p><p>Jaehyun clicks his tongue, grumbles under his breath. He turns away without sparing Youngho another word–or even an insult–propping his left elbow against the table to rest his cheek in his left palm, hiding away from Youngho once again.</p><p>Youngho grins. He lets himself admire Jaehyun’s fluffy hair–lets himself wonder what it would feel like if he could run a hand through it, if he could tug on it gently, if he could brush his fingers across Jaehyun’s nape–for a solid two minutes before returning to his essay.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s midway down the first roll of parchment when that same itch returns. Youngho tries, he really does, to keep himself from bothering Jaehyun again as promised, but he can’t help it–not when Jaehyun’s sitting the closest he’s ever sat for the longest they’ve ever been around one another. If there were ever signs from the gods above, this would be a golden billboard hung above Gringotts with a thousand toads croaking for him to <em>Say something!</em></p><p>Youngho rests his quill against the side of the ink bottle’s cap, “Can I ask you something?”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t look up, but he does stop writing. He closes his eyes and opens them slowly, like he wished Youngho were talking to someone else. When it’s become too apparent to ignore that there isn’t anyone else remotely close for Youngho to be speaking with, Jaehyun answers dryly, “You promised you wouldn’t bother me.”</p><p>“It’s just one question.”</p><p>Jaehyun continues on writing, “I doubt that.”</p><p>Youngho unhooks his ankles, grounding his feet against red-carpeted floors, “Why do you hate me?”</p><p>The writing stops. Jaehyun keeps his gaze down, “You’re bothering me.”</p><p>“Seriously.”</p><p>“Because you bother me.”</p><p>“<em>Seriously</em>.”</p><p>Youngho says with the utmost earnest. He turns to face Jaehyun entirely, not backing down without a proper answer. He’ll <em>have </em>to know one day, just what is it about him that has Jaehyun loathing his very being? What is it that he could have possibly done to have Jaehyun repelled by the very thought of them two sharing a desk meant for six? And most importantly, what could Youngho do to fix it?</p><p>Alright. Maybe he didn’t just have<em> one</em> question.</p><p>“Jaehyun–”</p><p>“–don’t.”</p><p>Youngho stops, “What?”</p><p>Jaehyun sighs, eyes fluttering shut. His grip around his quill has his knuckles pinking, voice lighter than a feather, “I don’t. I don’t–hate you.”</p><p>That, Youngho doesn’t expect. He temporarily loses the ability to speak–or think, for that matter–and any sort of brain function, Jaehyun’s words hanging in the air between them. The stillness is occasionally broken by a book or two flying over their heads to return themselves to their shelves, but the silence remains.</p><p>That is, excluding the sound of Youngho’s heart waging a war to be freed.</p><p>Jaehyun continues writing, indifferent to Youngho’s state of astonishment.</p><p>Youngho finds his voice again, somewhere between trying not to throw up and making sure he isn’t dreaming, “You don’t?”</p><p>Jaehyun sighs again, “No.”</p><p>“But you–”</p><p>“You said you had one question,” Jaehyun interjects. He dips his quill in his inkwell, then goes back to writing, “I’ve answered it.”</p><p>Youngho juts his lower lip out in a pout, despite knowing it would do nothing to convince Jaehyun otherwise. He folds his hands together, rubbing at the knuckles on his thumbs, “Can I have another question?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Just one more?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“But I just wanted to ask if–”</p><p>Jaehyun’s head snaps up, eyes flashing. His hair falls over his eyes, but it does nothing to diminish the ice in his gaze, “You promised. Or are you going back on your word, Suh?”</p><p>Youngho sulks, deflating at Jaehyun’s stubbornness. He debates whether or not puppy eyes would work–they do very well on Taeyong–but he decides not to risk it, withering under Jaehyun’s will and turning back to suffer through the rest of his Potions essay silently.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s fifteen minutes to midnight when Youngho reaches the end of his second roll of parchment. He’s gone through three different definitions of moonstones and rambled on for a good few inches on the recent developments in moonstone research (who cares?), but alas, the last roll of Professor Lee’s three-roll requirement sits, staring at him with mockery.</p><p><em>I will not retake year seven, I will not retake year seven</em>, Youngho chants in his mind, unrolling the last piece of parchment paper he’s meant to fill. He starts on a new sentence, blue bleeding onto the page, mind twisting the same words he’d been writing for the past two hours. Youngho makes it to a single sentence before a fresh wave of demoralizing exhaustion has him sighing again, wishing the essay would just please write itself.</p><p>Beside him, Jaehyun’s quill has yet to stop moving, gliding across pages after pages like one of those smart-answer quills they sold down at Weasleys’. Through his peripheral, Youngho’d made out that Jaehyun was compiling notes for Charms, sketching wand movements in black ink and annotating them with small reminders in scarlet.</p><p>There’s that same prickle on his skin, wishing he could dive into a conversation with Jaehyun just to talk about anything, whatever Jaehyun would let him babble on about. He wishes he could sit next to Jaehyun, wishes he could simply watch Jaehyun from a distance no one else can, wishes he could be around like Jaehyun like no one else can.</p><p>Then, it’s loud.</p><p>A grumble.</p><p>Youngho pauses over his essay. He sneaks a look at Jaehyun, wonders if he’s hearing things or if he’s really just heard Jaehyun’s stomach gurgle. The boy is equally motionless over his notes, and it’s not two seconds later that another grumble erupts from Jaehyun’s tummy. Jaehyun’s quill resumes its terrifying pace, unbothered by his tummy’s unintended cry of hunger.</p><p>Youngho remembers the cookies he’d shoved into his bookbag earlier, wrapped neatly in a lunchbox napkin. He fishes for it, hopes it isn’t considered bothering if he’d offered Jaehyun some cookies, even if they <em>are </em>a couple of hours old.</p><p>They’re edible, at least.</p><p>“No, thank you,” is what Jaehyun says when Youngho holds it out, offering the fifth-year one of the five chocolate chip cookies. Jaehyun eyes the cookies and its questionable makeshift lunchbox, the corners of his lips pulling down slightly. He twirls the quill between his thumb and forefinger, “I’m not hungry.”</p><p>“Wow.” Youngho deadpans, “I totally believe you.”</p><p>Jaehyun shoots him a hateful look. He moves to return his focus to his notes, but his tummy rumbles again, louder this third time. Youngho grins, manages to keep his laugh in his throat, knowing that any sign of it would much likely have Jaehyun leaving.</p><p>Jaehyun lets out a long breath, left hand moving to rest atop his tummy as if he were willing it to be quiet.</p><p>“Just take one, Jaehyun,” Youngho says. Jaehyun looks at him, then at the cookies, “They’re not poisoned or anything, okay? I took them from the Great Hall.”</p><p>“I’m not–” Jaehyun licks his lips, “–worried that they’re poisoned. I’m really not that hungry.”</p><p>Youngho stares, “I just heard your tummy say otherwise.”</p><p>“My <em>tummy</em>–” Jaehyun’s cheeks color, indignant. He shakes his head, “I’m fine, really–thank you.”</p><p>“What are you so–”</p><p>“I don’t like sweets,” Jaehyun says quickly. He looks away, pinking ears giving it away again, frowning at his notes, “I don’t eat them often.”</p><p><em>Doesn’t like sweets. </em>Youngho stores that away for possible further use, <em>Got it</em>.</p><p>He remembers again of the apple he’d packed earlier too, rummaging for it through his bookbag once more. It’s a little bruised, but Youngho offers it to Jaehyun, who stares as if Youngho’s gone mad.</p><p>Jaehyun is hesitant, taking the apple slowly from Youngho only after considering it thoroughly. His fingers brush against Youngho’s, murmuring a quiet <em>thank you </em>under his breath.</p><p>Youngho nods jerkily, every single bone in his body feeling like it were a breeze away from turning into dust. He picks his quill back up, forces himself not to think about Jaehyun’s warm hands and Jaehyun’s delicate fingers, about how they would fit so well tangled with his own.</p><p>“Ask me that question.”</p><p>Youngho looks up just as Jaehyun bites into the apple, “Huh?”</p><p>Jaehyun is turned towards him, quill and notes forgotten. He watches Youngho for the first time this evening, chewing thoughtfully, “That question you wanted to ask me earlier–what was it?”</p><p>Frankly speaking, Youngho’s forgotten all about his relentless questioning. He’d wanted to ask just <em>why </em>didn’t Jaehyun hate him, but the dark circles under Jaehyun’s eyes has Youngho thinking he should probably save it for another day. One where they’re not too tired out from hours of studying, one where maybe Youngho could further venture the possibility of them being friends.</p><p>Or maybe even something more.</p><p>“Oh.” Youngho bounces his knee, trying to rid the nerves under his skin, “I just wanted to ask–what you were studying here. Today.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s eyes narrow, just a fraction, deliberating over Youngho’s choice of a dull question. He takes another bite of the apple, licking his lips, “Charms. We’ve got a couple of tests coming up.”</p><p>“Professor Kwon?”</p><p>Jaehyun nods solemnly.</p><p>Professor Kwon has been the school’s resident Charms’ professor for years now, and following her ability to hold the position are long-standing stories of her torturous lessons. It was widely known that she had the most rigorous study plans amongst the teaching staff at Hogwarts, especially so for fifth-years taking the Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations (O.W.L.s.; Owls).</p><p>Youngho remembers taking them with Taeyong and Yuta (the third of their little friend group, a seventh-year Ravenclaw), and he remembers clearly suffering through the entirety of it. He was called to stay after class countless of times, Professor Kwon refusing to let him off for dinner until he could perfect whatever spell they were learning that week. Thankfully, he’d managed to pass his Owls, motivated solely by the fact that he didn’t want to have to stick out another year with Professor Kwon and her scarring lessons.</p><p>“You were held back?” Jaehyun tilts his head, surprisingly interested in Youngho’s recount of the horror that was fifth-year Charms, “I didn’t think to expect that from you.”</p><p>Youngho rolls his eyes, “Like you’re acing all your classes!”</p><p>“Who says I’m not?” Jaehyun challenges.</p><p>“You must be bad at <em>something</em>,” Youngho snorts. He stretches his arms over his head, casting a side glance at Jaehyun, “You can’t possibly be perfect at everything, Jung.”</p><p>“I’m not.” Jaehyun shrugs, “But I’m pretty sure I’m better than you at most things.”</p><p>“Big talk coming from a guy who once flew off his broom in third year trying to chase a paper plane.” Youngho revels in Jaehyun’s mortification, “I told you I kept tabs on you.”</p><p>“Kim Mingyu <em>hexed </em>that plane and everyone knows it.” Jaehyun huffs, “It doesn’t even matter now–not when I’m clearly better at flying than you are.”</p><p>Youngho barks a laugh, earning himself a <em>ssh! </em>from Madam Yoon, “Please! I’ve been flying two full years before you have, Jung.”</p><p>“As if that matters!” Jaehyun throws him a smirk and it goes straight to Youngho’s heart, heat rising to the top of his head, “Flying is a skill, Suh, one I definitely best you in.”</p><p>“Jung Jaehyun, are you waging a race against me?”</p><p>Jaehyun bites into the apple, “No.”</p><p>“Oh, come <em>on</em>!” Youngho can’t keep the stupid, dopey smile off his face, “You can’t just say things like that and not agree to a race, Jung.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s lips curl up in a devious grin, and Youngho is immediately wrecked, the only thought in his empty head: <em>hot</em>.</p><p>“I don’t need to race you to know I’d win, Suh. I’ve already seen you out on the Quidditch Pitch and frankly, that’s more than enough to judge on, really.”</p><p>“Just admit it!” Youngho isn’t one to back down from a challenge and he knows just how to rile Jaehyun up, “You’re afraid of losing against me, aren’t you?”</p><p>Jaehyun scoffs, unamused. But, “Fine. Name the time and place, Suh.”</p><p>
  <em>Gotcha.</em>
</p><p>Youngho grins, “Great! It’s a date, baby.”</p><p>The affection has Jaehyun freezing up instantly, like he were instantly repulsed; but he shakes it off and rolls his eyes, twisting back around as he groans, “There you go again.”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Youngho laughs. He leans over the seat on his right, resting his weight against the back of the wooden chair, “I’m sorry but I really can’t help it.”</p><p>Jaehyun stops mid-bite. He lowers the apple, “Can’t help what?”</p><p>“Bothering you,” Youngho shrugs, as if he isn’t panicking over just what he’s about to confess. He rests his chin on his arm, watching Jaehyun closely, not knowing what to do about the building tension in the air, “Teasing you when I’m around you.”</p><p>Jaehyun blinks, “Why?”</p><p>
  <em>Wait. Wait, wait, wait–</em>
</p><p>“Because I think you get really cute when I do.”</p><p>And there it is.</p><p>Words slipping free and floating into the space over their heads. Youngho can see it register in Jaehyun’s eyes, the sudden drop in temperature, the sudden grip in their lungs like there’s no oxygen left between them–the way this is different, so <em>very</em> different from all the other times Youngho’s thrown the word around.</p><p>
  <em>Cute. </em>
</p><p>Even he can hear the fondness in his own voice, one Youngho’s never thought to have until this very moment.  </p><p>Jaehyun shifts awkwardly in his seat. He fidgets, knuckles now turning <em>white</em> where he’s gripping his quill, keeping his eyes ahead and surely nowhere near Youngho. There’s no spark, no fireworks, and the shell of Jaehyun’s ear is a bright red–the most it’s ever been–but Youngho can’t help wondering,</p><p>maybe he’s gotten this all wrong.</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, limbs locked into place, looking as if he wished he were anywhere in the world but here.</p><p>
  <em>Ah. </em>
</p><p>Youngho moves, the chair creaking as he does. The sound of it cuts through the air and it makes Jaehyun jump, but nevertheless he keeps his posture in place, head still turned away. With the sudden drop in his chest, Youngho packs up quickly, tossing his quills and parchments into his bookbag numbly. He can’t risk thinking here, not when he knows his face will be an open book for Jaehyun to read–if the boy even wanted to read it.</p><p>Youngho pushes the chair back into place and stops.</p><p>Braving the worst, Youngho looks and his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, wide and bewildered. The quill and apple are still in Jaehyun’s hands, and the way he’s blinking up at Youngho has the library spinning on an axis. His lips are parted, like he’s got something to say, and Youngho makes the executive decision–he doesn’t want to hear it.</p><p>“Er. See you around.”</p><p>Youngho barely hears himself, turning on his heel and heading straight for the exit. He doesn’t hear anything as he leaves, legs moving fast and faster with every step, and suddenly he’s running out of the library, bookbag thumping heavily against him. His heart’s racing faster than he is, beating out of time, almost desperate to break free.</p><p>
  <em>“Fumos!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>A thick fog rises, cloaking Youngho immediately in a dense cloud. He stops in his tracks, skidding across the stone floors, rummaging for his wand in his bookbag. The fog thickens into a wall, smelling of nothing, and Youngho has his wand up and ahead of him, pointing blindly.</p><p>Youngho counters with ease, <em>“Ventus!”</em></p><p>A gust of wind bursts forth from the tip of his wand, clearing the smoke with a spiraling rush. The corridor is empty, swirls of the remaining fog curling along the sides, climbing up the walls like tendrils. Seeing nothing, he spins on his heel with his wand still outstretched before him, aimed right at–Jaehyun.</p><p>There is no time for questions, no time to think.</p><p>Jaehyun is quick, “<em>Expelliarmus!”</em></p><p>Youngho’s wand flies right out of his hand. Jaehyun charms it into his possession, catches it in the air and holds it hostage. He stands with his shoulders rolled back, that same defiance in his eyes as he stares Youngho down, no longer dazed like he had been five minutes earlier. There’s uncertainty in his expression, somewhat subdued by those same guarded eyes Youngho’s no stranger to.</p><p>Youngho raises his hands in surrender, “What are you doing?”</p><p>“I should be asking you that.” Jaehyun tosses Youngho’s wand back to him, to which Youngho catches with ease. He folds his arms over his chest, commanding Youngho’s attention without even trying, “Why did you run off?”</p><p>“I didn’t–<em>run </em>off,” Youngho splutters. He very much did, “I just–remembered I had something important to do.”</p><p>Jaehyun nods, “Thank you for lying.” Youngho tries to defend himself, but Jaehyun speaks over him, “When you said you liked–bothering me, what did you mean by it? Explain yourself.”</p><p>
  <em>Here it is. </em>
</p><p>“It’s nothing.” Youngho cringes inwardly at his own valiant attempt to weasel out of this interrogation, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”</p><p>“You didn’t?”</p><p>“I mean, I did–”</p><p>“What?” Jaehyun frowns, “Did you or did you not?”</p><p>“I–” Youngho fumbles with his wand, not really knowing what to do with his hands (or his face), “I mean, I just meant that you look cute.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s brows furrow, “<em>Excuse</em> me?”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry, I just–” Youngho closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He wills away the rest of the world, pictures it falling away, forces himself to <em>think</em>, “I don’t know why, I just–like teasing you and making you all flustered, and when I said it earlier, I thought I freaked you out so I left and I didn’t want to think about it because I–”</p><p>“Stop talking.”</p><p>Youngho clamps his mouth shut.</p><p>“So,” Jaehyun starts slowly, eyeing Youngho’s every breath, “What? You just like teasing me, is that it? This is just some–hobby to you?”</p><p><em>Well, no. I’m pretty sure I have feelings for you</em>. Youngho backs down, “I–I guess so.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t blink for a long time. Youngho no longer knows if it’s anger or confusion or disgust that makes up Jaehyun’s expression, a blend of a hundred things Youngho can’t name. He stares back at Jaehyun, refusing to let himself scurry off twice in the same night–whatever happened to a Gryffindor’s bravery?</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Youngho thinks he’s hearing things, “Sorry?”</p><p>“Okay,” Jaehyun repeats. He’s already walking away, his back to Youngho, “Don’t forget about our race, Suh.”</p><p>Youngho watches in stunned silence until Jaehyun’s shadow is no more, returning to the library like he hadn’t just chased Youngho down for the very first time. Youngho’s always been the one that’s done the chasing and the sudden reversal should have Youngho elated to the skies and heavens–but it doesn’t.</p><p>Instead, he feels like something’s been severed between them.</p><p>He doesn’t know what. A heartstring, a red thread, whatever.</p><p>But then again, it isn’t like there's anything between them to sever anyway.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(i haven't written the second chapter yet so the update won't be as fast as it usually is ;; but it should be up... eventually... please yell at me on <a href="https://twitter.com/jenhyungs">twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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